John Crowe Ransom Quotes

Where have I seen before, against the wind, These bright virgins, robed and bare of bonnet, Flowing with music of their strange quick tongue And adventuring with delicate paces by the stream,— Myself a child, old suddenly at the scream From one of the white throats which it hid among?
John Crowe Ransom (1888-1974), U.S. poet. Vision by Sweetwater (l. 11-16). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.
(7) (4)
Tawny are the leaves turned, but they still hold. It is the harvest; what shall this land produce? A meager hill of kernels, a runnel of juice. Declension looks from our land, it is old.
John Crowe Ransom (1888-1974), U.S. poet. Antique Harvesters (l. 1-4). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.
(3) (3)
The horn, the hounds, the lank mares coursing by Under quaint archetypes of chivalry; And the fox, lovely ritualist, in flight Offering his unearthly ghost to quarry;
John Crowe Ransom (1888-1974), U.S. poet. Antique Harvesters (l. 20-23). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.
(4) (3)
Alas, For the tireless heart within the little Lady with rod that made them rise From their noon apple-dreams, and scuttle Goose-fashion under the skies!
John Crowe Ransom (1888-1974), U.S. poet. Bells for John Whiteside's Daughter (l. 16-20). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.
(2) (4)
There was such speed in her little body, And such lightness in her footfall, It is no wonder her brown study Astonishes us all.
John Crowe Ransom (1888-1974), U.S. poet. Bells for John Whiteside's Daughter (l. 1-4). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.
(1) (1)
For I could tell you a story which is true; I know a lady with a terrible tongue, Blear eyes fallen from blue, All her perfections tarnished—and yet it is not long Since she was lovelier than any of you.
John Crowe Ransom (1888-1974), U.S. poet. Blue Girls (l. 13-17). . . Norton Anthology of Modern Poetry, The. Richard Ellmann and Robert O'Clair, eds. (2d ed., 1988) W. W. Norton & Company.
(2) (0)
The curse of hell upon the sleek upstart That got the Captain finally on his back And took the red red vitals of his heart And made the kites to whet their beaks clack clack.
John Crowe Ransom (1888-1974), U.S. poet. Captain Carpenter (l. 61-64). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.
(2) (1)
I would not knock old fellows in the dust But there lay Captain Carpenter on his back His weapons were the old heart in his bust And a blade shook between rotten teeth alack.
John Crowe Ransom (1888-1974), U.S. poet. Captain Carpenter (l. 45-48). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.
(1) (1)
But where she should have made off like a hind The bitch bit off his arms at the elbows.
John Crowe Ransom (1888-1974), U.S. poet. Captain Carpenter (l. 23-24). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.
(1) (1)
Captain Carpenter rose up in his prime Put on his pistols and went riding out But had got wellnigh nowhere at that time Till he fell in with ladies in a rout.
John Crowe Ransom (1888-1974), U.S. poet. Captain Carpenter (l. 1-4). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.
(2) (1)